The Return: A Rewrite
by PrincessJaded
Summary: The Nefarious have corrupted the Digital World, bringing destruction and terror upon the beings that inhabit the once flourishing land. Their reign however is about to end when the reason for their hate returns.


**July 1, 2009**

Last October, when I was really new to fanfiction, I started my ONLY true Digimon fic. It wasn't AU, but it wasn't exactly in-universe either. It did have the actual partners though. Now it's been nine months since I originally put up this and I read through it and hated EVERYTHING about it. So I decided I was going to rewrite. I was going to be more descriptive, I was going to fill in the holes, take out the junk, and make an all around better story.

In order for this to be successful, I sought out the help of the only two people I know who would grill me until this all made sense. So a huge thank you to **ARCtheElite** and **BenignUser**, my wonderful _Otouto_ and _Onii-chan_. I know I joked around and made you think that you were mean for everything you said but you have no idea how eternally grateful I am for your help.

There are going to be major changes from the first version. So don't expect this to be the exact same story, because I'm telling you now - it won't be.

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**The Return: A Rewrite**

by

_PrincessJaded_

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**Chapter One  
**_Days Gone By_

--x--

There was a time when the alluring sea breeze drew in all others. A time when the sound of the waves breaking on the sand invited and the lure of the ocean beckoned. The cerulean sky was speckled with cumulus clouds that shaded areas for brief moments of time before soon relenting to the sun above as it shone down its warm and comforting glow. The sand was soft and cushioned the footfalls of those who trod across it, allowing the feeling of relaxation to settle. The water, starting with the bubbly foam and going deep into the marine, was a calming cold, one that eased even the most worrisome of thoughts and so lucid that even the aquatic life swimming through it danced with mesmerizing radiance.

Now the days were dark; they had been this way for quite some time. The sun strained while trying to break through the heavy clouds. The wind whipped athwart the ground, kicking up dirt in its wake. The murky water of the vast ocean crashed against the rocks throwing hazy mists high into the air. It was lonely here; it was lifeless and dull. Nothing about it called out anymore; there was no longer a trace of the majesty that once was. Even the red stained cliff side had been tainted black, turned so by months of rotting life.

Atop the jagged mountains, at the highest peak in the cliffs and lost in the dense fog, stood the reason for this calamity: five men who were children no more; five men who had changed a world; five men who were nothing like they once were; five men who were now, the Nefarious.

Their garbs were black military style suits - unvarying, simple, and clean-cut. The only visible difference with each man – aside from facial features, the fluctuating shades of hair, and their relative heights – lay in the symbols that were emblazoned on their backs; the symbols that gave them both purpose and pride.

They stood scattered on the ledge overlooking the gray hued Dark Ocean.

This _was_ their home... their world. The smug looks of gratification and arrogance on their faces told a sinister story as they looked on at their home because it was all they had. This immense span of land that belonged to them; they would do whatever it took to keep it in their grasp. It was a sense of entitlement that drove them to this realization, for they had fought to save it on numerous occasions and sacrificed their own sweat, blood, and tears for it.

They had saved a peaceful and wholesome world only to break it apart and reconstruct it to their own liking. The Digital World was now completely unlike the one they had first encountered seven years ago. It was all due to the darkness that festered in the hearts of these five young men.

Seven years ago, eight children defeated four evil mega Digimon, only to be attacked by the most terrible threat of all, Apocalymon. In that fight, they came near certain death but were instead turned into pure digital information; they were then mere binary codes floating through space. Willpower and trust brought them to the understanding that they could continue the fight. It was this reigning thought that allowed them to be recreated.

Five children and eight Digimon returned to the plane of existence. Their three female companions failed to return and were lost forever in the ebb and flow of digital information.

With unmatched fury and unsurpassable power, their leader initiated the moment of truth. He forced his Digimon to warp digivolve. It was a chain reaction that followed. The remaining four boys, though young and presumably unfathomable of this behavior, pushed their Digimon to their fullest potential, creating four additional fearsome mega level Digimon.

After shattering Apocalymon into oblivion they decided to stay in the Digital World, but not as its protectors. The absence of Light, Love, and Purity had created five fragile black hearts.

Corruption in the Digital World meant one thing… darkness, destruction, and terror.

And thus this beautiful world, created by the transfer of digital information, crumbled at the feet of five children who were once destined to save it.

Now, five men planned to return to the world they once called home. They were planning their inevitable domination of planet Earth. Their descent on their former world was upon them.

"This is beginning to take longer than planned," a sour tone grumbled. The voice belonged to a much taller blue haired man.

"Some things never change," an aggravated blond retorted. He was shorter than most of the Nefarious, with wispy hair, dusky blue eyes, and a boyish charm that gave him a friendly appeal. However, friendly was hardly the appropriate word when used to describe him.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" the blue-haired man said.

"Exactly what I said, Jyou. You're always complaining about something."

"Well excuse me for not being as _optimistic_ as you, Takeru," Jyou remarked sarcastically.

Before Takeru could retort, a harsh voice barked, "Would the both of you shut up?!"

The attention that had been focused on insulting one another was averted to the man who was closest to the edge on the cliff. His former perfectly sculpted blond hair now hung down to his chin, with only a few locks swept to the side. It was still glossy and straight, varying greatly from his brother's. His piercing blue eyes did not betray the cold, emotionless person Yamato had finally become. His handsome face had matured and given him devilishly good-looking features; the contours were sharper and slightly alarming, and there was the shadow of stubble along his jaw that served to further his menacing exterior.

"Quit trying to order us around!" Jyou spat with disgust. "You're no leader."

"You're right, because that's me," the man who was standing closest to Yamato, and who had seemed extremely bored up until now, commented in a low commanding tone. "And Yamato is second in command; his word is final unless I say otherwise. Don't forget that power is the only thing that matters. He is more powerful and skilled than you are, Jyou. Or do you care to challenge my word and test your strength against him?"

His brunet hair was still crafted into odd peaks but it had been tamed and cropped shorter. The average height of his youth had been converted to an impressive stature. He was almost the same height as Jyou and his broad shouldered, firm body only expanded his threatening, dominant countenance. He lost both his goggles—which he'd literally ripped to shreds—and his smile long ago. His eyes, the once warm pools of molten chocolate, were hard and frightening. They were dormant of feeling with an exception of hatred and contempt for the world that had taken so much away from him. In the eyes of Taichi, the Digital World had taken his sister, his friend, and someone who he never realized he truly needed.

"Taichi, I never meant…" Jyou started, struggling to find the words that would suit his argument.

"We don't have the time for this. There is too much to be gained. There are jobs that need to be done and petty bickering is getting us nowhere. Just give it a rest until we're finished!" a fifth voice interjected, ceasing the escalating argument.

Ever a voice of reason, Koushiro had intervened on Jyou's behalf. He was still the smallest, falling even in height when compared with Takeru, the youngest of them all. The lanky, undefined body he had as a pre-pubescence had developed adequately, like his comrades. His burnt red hair was shorter and less choppy and spiky than before. The most dramatic change when it came to Koushiro, however, was not his body; it was his eyes. The dark brown shade was at present empty black–dark, dank, and chilling. Because unlike Jyou, Taichi, and on rare occasion, Yamato, emotions were a weakness that Koushiro would not allow himself to fall to.

The bickering men regarded the one man who was not only their smartest, but the wisest as well. They nodded in agreement and dropped their argument.

"BlackWarGreymon!" Taichi said evenly, calling forth his partner.

"I'm here," the Digimon growled, emerging from the nearby brush where he'd been steadily awaiting Taichi's command.

Taichi looked down, examining the scar of an eight pointed star on the back of his hand. "Have you caught them?" he questioned lazily.

"BlackMetalGarurumon has detected their scent. GranKuwagamon and ShadowSeraphimon have gone on reconnaissance at the moment. NyctoVikemon is running a perimeter. If it was them, they can't have gotten far."

"This is going well. Once we've caught them, everything will be perfect," Takeru acknowledged.

"Thank you for pointing out the obvious," Jyou muttered sourly.

"Say it again. And this time, to my face, weakling," Takeru hissed, taking quick steps toward the taller man.

"Enough!" Yamato growled. There was an angry groan and Yamato's eyes followed Taichi as the brunet walked away from them, farther along the cliff, and stared down at the crashing waves. Yamato knew what his friend was concentrating on; the troublesome behavior of three Digimon who had the chance to be saved from retribution and even so, had taken the wrong path. They'd fled; they had left to aid the enemy.

"But I don't get it," Takeru sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Salamon, Palmon, and Biyomon shouldn't have been this hard to get a hold of. There isn't much they can do, so how is it that they have such a strong following? And why help _them_?" His last question was laced with venom and he glared at the floor.

"If I had the answer to that, I'd gladly let you know," Yamato replied, a hint of sympathy in his voice reserved only for his little brother. He clapped a hand to his sibling's shoulder only to have Takeru swat the arm away.

"Just wait," Jyou started, a disturbing smirk creeping across his face. "Just wait till I get a hold of them."

The roll of brown eyes went unseen but the order was felt deep down in their bones, "We're done here. Let's go. We have work to do."

--x--

The sun was setting in the distance, throwing its red and orange rays over the small man-made island known as Odaiba. The city was still alive with the working class leaving for home in the early evening hours, and the first traces of the nightlife scene were still only beginning to show.

Down in the industrial section of the docks, at the abandoned warehouse that the sun barely reached, the light was weak and only peeked through the cracks in the broken, grime-covered windows. However, it was bright enough for the light to cast a glare off the glass from the outside, leaving the chaos that was partaking within the building unknown to any stray passerby.

In the middle of the spacious building, a vibrant orb of electrical force revolved and sent out brilliant flashes of multi-colored light. The intensity and frequency of the expelled light grew, until finally there was one last release and the room was flooded with a concentrated whiteness.

When the brightness faded, the orb was gone and in its place lay three bare feminine bodies - each emitting a hazy luminous smolder.

Light footsteps echoed off the tin walls as someone approached the arrivals. There was a sigh of relief and the tension lifted from a set of golden brown eyes before the person spoke, "Welcome home."

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**Well** there you have it. Feel free to look back and compare but I'm 100% sure that this was better than the first one.

_Matt, fei chang xie xie ni! Darko, hvala puno!_

Please leave a **Review**. They make me feel all warm and fuzzy, and mean a great deal to me. _Muchos gracias_! ;)

Thanks,  
**Diane**


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